Tomate Assassin
by asaloveyoru
Summary: Lovino Vargas. A young, intelligent assassin who focuses on one goal and one goal only. Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. A handsome and skilled pirate prince who has created a slave revolt against the Queen of England. Lovino has lost the trust and love of others. Antonio hides many scars of his past under a pierrot's mask. The pirate hates assassins. The assassin hates pirates.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Angry cries to hunt me down echoed off the walls of the city of Milazzo, Italy. The night sky cried heavy tears onto the Earth. I continued to run in a bloody, torn green dress with dagger in hand. I laughed in success as my leather boots slid against the cobblestone streets.

Who would have known, the prince of Milazzo, was a fucking, _idiota_ playboy?! All it took was to disguise myself as a _bella donna_, flirt with him hoping to learn a little information, and as nightfall approached, assassinate the bastard in bed. What a spoiled brat! He probably fucked every _donne_ in this whole city. I am a fucking mastermind. I am Lovino Vargas, grandson of the most wanted criminal and #1 assassin for my age.

I made a sharp turn around a street corner and pressed my body against the wall. No sign of those damn guards. Sighing in relief, I sunk down behind the old vegetable and wine bottle crates. I took in gulps of air for my hungry lungs as I gazed into the clouds of rain. When all of this is over, I'm going to celebrate with some good Italian wine and pizza.

Shifting around to get comfortable, I had forgotten about the dirtied dress soaked from rain and stained with blood. I ripped the dress off my body, only revealing a simple black shirt and brown fly breeches tucked into my boots.

"Well that's finally over! I was about to rip my own ear off from listening to that _idiota_ prince complain," I whispered harshly to myself.

I scrubbed the blood off my hands with a nearby puddle. Now I was face to face with my reflection of a now blood-filled puddle. My damp auburn hair with a strange curl resting on the right side of my head, golden eyes, and olive toned skin. A frown formed and I threw the dress at the puddle with frustration.

This was the face of an assassin, a deceiver, and a devil. Why have I become such thing? Why have I become an assassin? It's not for fun I'll tell you that and it's not for the money, but for something that cannot be put into words.

The past few minutes went by quickly as I heard the light yells nearby. There were two options. Either I remain behind the crates as they continue to search for me? Or run for my very life? The long distant barks and screams became louder like pig squeals before a slaughter. Like hell will I stay here and risk my life.

Once again, I sprinted down the streets of Milazzo. The harsh pounding of my footsteps resonated in my ears and the cold night air dried my already parched throat. My heart pounded against my chest as if it were to burst out. The rain felt like needles crashing against my face. Italian soldiers were on my trail with savage dogs on leashes. A surge of adrenaline caused me to panic and push my limit.

After non-stop running to who knows where, I luckily came to a halt before flying off a cliff. I ended up at the edge of the city, the end of the cobblestone road. At the bottom of the cliff were the raging waves of the ocean. I cursed under my breath.

What should I do? Am I stupid enough to jump off? My head was fighting over which idea was more stupid, only not realizing a soldier with a _carcano_ in hand. It aimed for my head from a short distance.

"_Fine della linea, Vargas! _Don't move or else_,"_ the soldier's harsh voice warned. I gave a dark glance over my shoulder. The soldier was young and around his 20's. He wore the traditional military blue sleeved-uniform, decorated with silver fringes on both shoulders and golden buttons. He was also associated with white pants tucked into black boots.

I faced the uneasy soldier and raised my hands in surrender. My slight movements startled the soldier causing him to lift his gun closer.

"I said don't move_,"_ he barked another order.

His shaky finger hovered over the trigger. This guy didn't have the guts to shot me. I can't believe I'm wasting my precious time with this pansy. I gave a sinister chuckle and sneered.

"Or else what? You're going to kill me like I did to that _idiota_ prince?"

"Don't talk bad about our prince, _si cestinare_!"

A sharp pain erupted into my left shoulder. I bit the bottom of my lip, holding back a cry of agonizing pain. My hand grasped onto my bleeding shoulder; I looked up at the terrified soldier. He was fucking serious. I mean he gave a damn warning shot into my shoulder for crying out loud.

I have to make a decision now before the next thing he shoots is my head. Taking a small step back, almost forgetting that I'm at the edge of Poseidon's rage; I came to a conclusion. I could feel my heart race at an uncertain speed and fresh blood was slowly pumping out of the puncture hole. The clicking sound announced that the soldier was ready to shoot the next bullet.

"Any last words, Vargas," he asked with a smirk as if he were a child who won a prize at the carnival.

I took a deep breath and released my hand from shoulder. While smiling through the pain, I did the stupidest thing any person would do in this situation.

"_Sì_ actually I do! Let failure fall upon your shoulders because you have unsuccessfully killed Lovino Vargas!"

My foot slipped off the edge causing me to fall backwards. I heard the gunshot blast through the air, barely touching my forehead. A long speech of Italian curse along with a cry of anger was announced from the top. I could feel the air rush past my ears and everything was becoming a last thing I remembered was slamming into the salty water and darkness taking over.

**Thank you for reading the prologue. I know the title is a bit weird but I going to stick with it. I hope you enjoy Tomate Assassin in the future.**


	2. 1: Rescue

**Chapter 1**

**Rescue**

Beer mugs were raised into the air and ancient pirate songs were sung by drunken old men. Everyone was enjoying themselves with dusty card games, sweet savoring alcohol, salty appetizers, and cheerful piano music rebounded off the walls of the tavern. The _Serpente D'oro_ was full of pirates from different parts of the sea.

Each pirate crew aimed for a purpose in their pirate lives. Whether it was fame, fortune, adventure, or all of the above, everyone knew that in order to reach it, you must earn it. But sadly most of them have lost their spirit and ended their piracy.

However, one pirate crew was different from the rest of those failures.

The Tomate Pirates whose spirit is difficult to break and the rowdiest pirates out in sea. Harmless and carefree as they look, they were easy targets for any seadog, but don't judge a book by its cover. Citizens who have witnessed or encountered with them know what really hides under that act of theirs. For example:

Francis Bonnefoy, the second mate and cook of the Tomate, and a handsome French gentleman who captured the hearts of many women _and men._ He has a way with words that could either needle you till you're at the fullest or make your heart beat faster than its normal rate. Or could send chills down your spine with a devious glare with those luminous blue eyes of his.

On the outside, Francis was just a blonde French who cooked for his fellow crewmates and spent the nights in other's beds. But on the inside, he was a loyal demon who stood by his captain's side.

Gilbert Beilschmidt, the first mate of the Tomate, was an unusual German with an ego the size of the whole world. Besides his ego, his appearance was the most surprising. The German was albino with silver locks and demonic red eyes that glowed with excitement when challenge.

Rumors say the German was once a captain of his own pirate ship called _The Old Fritz_, and was a great threat to most nations. It has also been said that he took down an entire military ship single handily. Now he works under the hand of his captain.

Captain Antonio Fernandez Carriedo.

Antonio was a Spanish man with sweet brown curls pulled into a ponytail, assisted with a red ribbon, and seductive green eyes that causes your heart to skip a beat. The Spaniard warmed the coldest of hearts with that blinding smile of his and was respected by everyone. Everyone knew their captain well and relied on him in the toughest situations. The crew also knew not to piss him off otherwise they face his battle axe, a death wish will be granted.

These three were not the only ones dangerous; everyone on the **_Carmen_** was just as bad as they were. Pirates have tried to get the captain's or the crew's approval to join the crew, but none had spark their interest. Some have created terror in other towns or a high bounty on their head to spark the interest of the Tomate. However, they became pirate scum and not pirate legends.

"And so that is why you should give up kid. It's too risky to try to get in," said the old man with a scruffy gray beard and scar running down the right side of his face. He took another swig of draft beer and ordered another mug.

Angelo Russo, a young Sicilian, gave a slight pout as he sipped his rum. He really thought he could get in the Tomate crew, but he didn't think it would be this difficult. When Angelo heard about **_Carmen_** at the port, he was up in high spirits and immediately rushed to _D'oro Serpentine_.

Night washed the day away and the tavern was bright with pirates, including the Tomate crew. Before he could ask about a spot in the crew, the old man, Buford pulled him aside and began to break his spirit down bit by bit.

"By the way kid, why the hell would you want to become a pirate? You seem like a guy who would stick his nose in a book or something," Buford asked, followed with a belch.

"It just sounds like fun y'know. Sailing off to adventure the through the unknown we call home," Angelo said and rested his blushed cheeks on his palm.

Ever since he was a child, all he wanted to do was explore the new world. He spent most of his days inside the local library and went outside to explore the neighborhood with friends. Hearing what pirates do with their lives was fascinating. It would be a miracle if he could join the Tomate crew.

"Everyone says that kid, but I guess I'm not one to stop you. If you want to get hired, go find another ship. There are others who need recruitment," Buford advised the young man, giving a pat in the back.

Angelo ignored the older man, tightening the blue ribbon wrapped around his ponytail. His black eyes were swirling with determination. This Sicilian won't give up without trying. He got off the stool and walked towards the corner of the room.

He could feel a slight bit of anxiety swell in his stomach and his hands getting clammy. It felt like everything in the whole room stopped what they were doing and watched him as he approached the Spanish captain. The darkest part of the tavern enveloped the candle light like the night had swallowed away the sun.

_I can do this. I can do this_. Angelo repeated the mantra in his head, but didn't realize the question being asked. "Do you need something, _chico_?"

"Y-yes sir," he stuttered. He straightened his back and stared into the eyes of the captain. What Buford said was true about the Spainard. He did have stunning green eyes that represented emeralds. Angelo could sense himself being lost in the pools of green. He fought back the sensation, and saluted with his hands behind his back and chin up.

"I want to join the Tomate, sir," he firmly announced. The room went silent and Buford shook his head in disapproval. Poor guy just had a thick skull and was about to have his once determined spirit turned into a complete pile of dust.

* * *

As the Sicilian left the tavern with Buford, the atmosphere returned to the cheerfulness. Francis chuckled as he took sip of his red wine. The boy named Angelo made this night quite interesting and the Frenchman wanted to _play _with the man.

"Three days. Almost three days without any annoying roaches coming up to our feet, kissing and begging for a nest to live. As if they're life isn't worthless already. Am I right, _mon ami_?"

"No kidding. I thought they got it through their heads already. Their skulls are thick as iron and dull as dishwater," Antonio said with a sigh. He drank his rum and relaxed into the feather cushions of the chair.

Almost everywhere they went, there had to be somebody asking them about recruitment. They came up with pathetic excuses and were sent home with broken souls. This was a fine example of the Tomate's cruelty.

"Don't sweat it Toni," snickered the French. "It will all end soon. Just wait till the ship is settled and ready for sailing. Say where did you say we were sailing to again?"

"Spain. Home. It's been a while since I last said my blessings to her." Francis noticed Antonio's face soften with a smile. The Spainard clutched onto his crucifix. The crucifix was craved with wooden roses and a turquoise stone placed in the middle.

"You were only gone for two years. You know she'll forgive you. She's a forgiving person and she knows you were busy with that damn _Anglais_," Francis sneered.

Antonio nodded in agreement. Arthur Kirkland, a damn seadog who associated with slave chambers, was busy being destroyed by Antonio and his crew. The Englishman was tough and could rival the Spainard in strength and skill. They never were on the best of terms and got along like cats and dogs.

He gripped his beer mug from thinking about that seadog. He hated the man for even taking part of slave chambers.

A slave chamber was a slave system made by some corporation that discovered a rich mineral and were invested with a large sum of money to initiate mining chambers. A group called **The Children Thieves** kidnapped many young children, in hope of using them to work in the chambers using inhumane methods of discipline to keep the slaves in line.

For as long as Antonio could remember, he destroyed many chambers and freed many slaves, beginning a slave revolt against the corporation. It's been a tough struggle now with assassins on their trails thanks to the corporation.

Antonio leaned back into his chair as he continued to think about the issues. He downed the whole mug of rum, settling it onto the floor boards.

After finally escaping out of that English bastard's range and a few assassin bases, he and his crew somehow ended up near Southern Italy by accident. Thinking that they could relax, random pirates and townspeople immediately asked about recruitment like a swarm of bees' greedily collecting honey from a single flower. At first, it started out as a week. Now it was near a month with more annoying pests.

"The life as a pirate is not what they imagine. When will these people give up," he whispered to himself.

"Until you have that frown long gone!"

A pair of arms wrapped around Antonio's neck and pulled him back. Antonio yelped when crashing down on the wooden floor. Laughter from the Tomate crew erupted into the tavern. Gilbert, the victim hugged the Spaniard's neck and laughed in victory.

"There ya have it, Jack! The awesome me is so awesome that I made the captain scream like a virgin _dame_," Gilbert teasingly announced. The crew raised their drinks in celebration with laughter filling the air. Jack and his frustrated friends threw their cash onto the table.

Antonio gave a chuckle, unwrapping the pale arm off his neck and sat up.. "Now Gil, I didn't scream like a virgin_ chica_. It was a yelp of surprise."

He only received a grunt from the albino, drinking his dark, draft beer. Gilbert waved his hand not giving a damn. "Yeah, yeah! Same thing. You still screamed."

He dropped himself into a chair next to his captain. Gilbert released a sigh and frowned.

"Roderich is acting like a _hündin_ again. He kept on making a fuss about the damn food supply being low and stuff I don't understand. What should the awesome me tell him?"

The Spainard groaned, smacking his head against the table. Roderich Edelstein, a member of the Tomate crew and was more difficult than Gilbert's annoyance. He kept the Tomate crew's necessities and food supply in order. He also entertained the crew on party nights with his musical talent. Even though he was a good member, his personality was frustrating as a cat's.

Antonio had to choose his words carefully or else, the Austrian will snap his head off. Last time, Roderich lectured him for making rash decisions about harsh weather. Antonio may be the captain but he got push around by others too easily.

"Tell Roderich to start buying supplies that will last us for the trip to Spain. I don't want to hear any complaining. If he says we're not going to last the amount of food or it'll create any difficulties for the ship, make a plan. We will go back home for at least a _fiesta_. Do I make myself clear?!"

"Aye! Aye sir," the Tomate saluted and cheered with more alcohol.

An overpowering laugh spilled over the cheers. Everyone turned to find Gilbert, resting his booted foot on a chair, wearing a red long coat with black cuffs and golden buttons. Francis glanced over at his captain and clicked his tongue. Antonio's face morphed into shock and worry when seeing the German play dress-up with his coat.

The captain prohibited anyone to wear his red coat because it was "special". No one was sure why but they obeyed his orders. However this was Gilbert, a German who didn't obey the rules and loved to break them.

Gilbert climbed onto the wooden table, allowing the red coat to hang over his shoulders. The crewmates collected the plates and tupperware, waiting for an entertaining performance to happen. Gilbert then spoke in a Spanish accent with strange body movements to go along with it.

"_Hola! _I am the fearless captain of the Tomate crew, Antonio Hernandez Carriedo!"

The crewmates cheered and gave wolf whistles and cat calls. They encouraged the albino German to continue and so he did.

"I am not only a captain, but I am also an_ attractivo_ dancer. _Ol'e_."

Gilbert danced. The tavern shook with laughter like a volcano, ready to erupt. Crewmates laughed so hard their stomachs began to sore and tears formed in the corner of their eyes. The piano player played a cheerful Spanish tune to go along with Gilbert's horrid dancing. He swayed his hips and winked at his crew who died from laughter.

It all stopped when his foot slipped off the table.

Antonio and Francis rushed to their idiotic friend and crew, who were crushed by Gilbert's weight. Francis and a few others helped the smothered pirates. Once again, everyone return to the usual with a slight talk about the comedic performance. In addition, an Unfortunate Jack threw a few euros onto the table and left the tavern

"That was quite the entertainment you put out there tonight, Gil." The French complimented receiving a snicker from his friend.

"I try! Hey Toni," he called his captain. "What did you think about my awesome moves? I mean were they awesome or just awesome?"

Antonio grinned, sending an eerie feeling down Gilbert's spine. Something about that grin didn't feel right to the German. Antonio slowly clapped.

"_Si _Gil! It might need some work but it was awesome. However, what wasn't awesome was that you stole-"

"Borrowed," Francis quickly corrected.

"Borrowed my coat and you seemed to have dirtied it."

Gilbert became paler than his own skin tone; quickly yanking the red coat off his shoulders. On the back was a massive alcohol stain, causing the German to become white as snow. Gilbert knew about the no touching rule but he didn't mean for it get stained. Francis gave a slight prayer for his friend. The cause of death was by his captain.

* * *

The two ship mates left the worn-down Italian tavern that stood on the outskirts of town near the ocean. The port was quite distant, which Gilbert thought was unawesome because he received strange glares from the crowds due to his appearance. But it was midnight and the town was deserted at the moment.

Francis, on the other hand, didn't mind the long distance. He liked taking long walks by the ocean. It was calming and he could gaze at the starry night sky featuring a few clouds forming around the moon. The waves came slowly crashing into the shore, wetting his leather boots. It didn't bother him. He was a pirate and salt water was nothing new. He breathed in the bitter air and sighed of relaxation.

Ahead of Francis, Gilbert kicked the sand like a child who didn't get candy. He wanted to stay at the tavern for the rest of the night, drinking till he was drunk enough to not walk. Instead, as punishment for ruining his captain's "favorite" coat, he was sent back to the ship for the rest of the night to clean it till it was good as new.

The German released a frustrating cry. Why couldn't he throw the ridiculous coat into the sea? Maybe a sea monster will eat it, he giggled at the thought.

His train of thought soon collided when he tripped and face planted into the moist sand. Francis' laughter was heard over the waves crashing down on the albino. Gilbert cursed in his native tongue.

The coat was now covered in alcohol, sand, and a trace of seaweed. The scent of the ocean mixed with the alcohol stench creating a foul odor. He cursed out loud and turned to glare at his French buddy. Maybe he should throw the coat and Francis into the ocean.

Before Gilbert could relieve his anger on him, Francis was crouching over an unconscious boy. The boy looked young. He had dark and lustrous brown hair similar to chestnut. He attired in black clothing along with a pair of soggy boots. The unconcious boy was handsome if only he wasn't so pale and fragile like glass. Francis held the cold boy in his arms and gave Gilbert a worried expression.

"He's dying, Gil."

Gilbert kneeled by his friend. The French was right. The boy was shivering like a young bird missing its mother's wings. Underneath his closed eyelids, heavy black bags formed and his lips were blue. He examined the boy more closely, giving a slight gasp from his discovery. The boy's shoulder was wounded with blood slowly pumping out of the puncture hole. Francis sharply inhaled from the sight of blood. Without a minute to spare, he quickly threw the boy over his shoulder and sprinted down the sandy coast.

"Where are you going?! Don't tell me you're going to save him," Gilbert ran after the French.

"I'm not going to leave him here to die, Gil! I may be a pirate, but I'm not a cold-hearted scum."

Gilbert finally caught up with the French and snatched his arm. Francis halted and gave an impatient glare at his crewmate.

"Give up, Francis. He's a lost cause. Even if we do save him, we don't know anything about him! What would Antonio think about this?" Gilbert's red eyes intensely battled with Francis' blue ones. Francis broke the grip off his arm, his eyes still aligned with the red orbs.

"I'm not letting him die. If Antonio has a problem or this guy causes us any difficulty, then I'll take responsibility."

A penetrating silence filled the atmosphere around the two. Francis was winning. Gilbert gave a irritated groan and darted past Francis. "You better! Cause the awesome me is not going to take care of your shit!"

Francis grinned at the answer from his friend. They quickly ran towards the port with an injured boy. Francis could feel the shallow breathing on his back and the weak pounding of his heart. He grew anxious about the kid who was desperately fighting for his life. Why did he want to save this kid? Why does he feel that awful gut feeling in his stomach? He didn't have the answers.


End file.
